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Tag Archives: desire

Skipped

 

When I first saw you

my heart skipped

beat after beat

like a stone

skimming

exultant

across a lake.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new but true

Photograph found on the internet without provenance. If this is yours please advise and I will credit or remove.

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on July 10, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Attraction is a mystery

 

Attraction is a mystery

What is it that captures, captivates and compels?

What is it that draws us, like iron to magnet, bee to honey, moth to light? What is it that makes us warm to another, need to make contact, need to be in their presence, or simply make us catch our breath when they come close?

Is it in their eyes, or their mouth? Is it the arc of their smile? Is it in their height, their weight, their curves and lines? Is it in the colour of their skin or their hair? Is it in their laughter, or their voice, or their words, or the intelligent mind within?

Is it in their honesty, their truth, their empathy, their kindness, their compassion, their hope?

Is it in their movement, their balance, the way their body moves when they walk? Is it in the clothes they wear?

Is it in what they do, what they like, what they believe?

Is it in their beauty, and the beauty they see around them?

Is it in how good they make us feel?

Is it something we instantly see deep in their soul, something we recognise and know? Something that touches our own?

Is it that we sense they will complete us?

 

Attraction is a mystery.

Even after all these years I cannot explain it.

But I do know

I am deeply attracted to you

by all of the above.

.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a few years ago. I still don’t know the answer, and probably never will. But I do know what attracts me …

Art by Hamish Blakely

 
15 Comments

Posted by on March 29, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Magical

 

She is more magical

than a sticky-winged butterfly

unfolding from its hard shell,

the vivid arc of a bright rainbow

after the storm,

the muscular power of a thoroughbred

thundering across a field,

a full silver moon sailing

across a velvet night sky,

a virgin fall of powdery snow

awaiting my skis,

the scent of freshly cut grass

at the end of a summer’s day,

a glass of brunello di montalcino

sipped by the fire,

the staccato gunfire of high heels

crossing a marble floor,

a newly emerged desert flower

ephemeral in the sand.

 

She is more magical

than fervent wishes

unexpectedly coming true.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not a new post. But sometimes there is magic.

Art by Gianni Strino

 
5 Comments

Posted by on March 2, 2020 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Gift and curse

 

I have a sixth sense

I see what lies far beneath the surface of strangers and lovers.

I sense your desires, your fantasies, your needs.

I know what arouses you, what excites you, what makes you ache for release.

I learn your intentions, your agendas, your plans

I feel your hopes.

I watch your dreams.

I divine what you are thinking, what you are wondering, what you are wishing.

And I hear

what you aren’t saying.

.

I have a sixth sense.

It is both gift and curse.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new. But true.

Art by Jaroslaw Datta

 
13 Comments

Posted by on January 10, 2020 in D/s, Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Wow

 

Sometimes

I search through all my words

considering each for suitability

trying to find one

specific, precise, perfect

fit for purpose

that captures my emotion

provides description

yields illumination

offers reflection

delivers perspective

but when it comes

to you

all I can say is

‘wow’

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Written a few years ago  – but every now and then all one can say is ‘Wow’

Photograph taken from the internet without source details – if this belongs to you please let me know and I will give you as a credit or remove.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on July 16, 2019 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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A definition of infatuation

felicity-jones-by-mark-abrahams-for-gq-magazine

 

For reasons fully known only to myself, some six or seven years ago I was looking for a serious definition of infatuation.

But I found this in the Urban Dictionary. The truth of it made me laugh so much that I posted it on my blog at the time. I thought some of you who might not have seen it might also find it amusing.

Some of us may have been the ‘object’ but who of us cannot admit to having been the ‘obsessor’ at least once.

infatuation

 

All-encompassing, gut-wrenching, soul-draining activity that only requires the active involvement of one individual: the obsessor. A second individual is required for the peripheral need of providing the obsessor with an object of needless, unappreciated, possibly unwanted, often unwarranted affection. The second individual may or may not be aware of his/her peripheral involvement, and may or may not be willing to be peripherally involved: the object’s awareness and/or willingness of being an object of desire is of no consequence to the obsessor.

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Source : The Urban Dictionary

Other words @ the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph : The lovely actress Felicity Jones for whom I have had a mild infatuation (of which she is obviously unaware) for the last ten years or so. I was delighted to see her gain mainstream success in The Theory of Everything and Rogue One. This photo was taken by Mark Abrahams for GQ magazine in 2014 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on January 11, 2019 in Still Life

 

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Sports car

annick-bouvattier-tuttart-19

You have such

elegant

sleek

slender

stylish

svelte

pure

perfect

classy

classic

sports car

curves.

 

Driving you

would be

a delight.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

First posted this time a couple of years ago. I enjoy driving.

Art by Annick Bouvattier

 
6 Comments

Posted by on September 10, 2018 in Erotica, Poetry, Still Life

 

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Cloak

 

If I could

I would wrap

my cloak

around you

to protect you

to keep you warm

to keep you safe.

.

And when

you are gone

I will press

the dark cloth

to my face

and inhale

your scent

and feel you

close.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Bernard Lamotte

 

 
4 Comments

Posted by on April 4, 2018 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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Act dangerously

the-red-umbrella

 

Romantic that I am, I have a soft spot for Valentine’s Day.

Not so much for the exchange of cards, gifts and supper between those who are already lovers.  I can see the romance, the affirmation, the enchantment and the intimacy – I have fallen under its amorous spell often enough. Yet one can also almost smell the commercial cynicism at this time of the year.

No, I think what really makes February the fourteenth special is that it provides almost-strangers the perfect excuse and the ideal opportunity to flirt outrageously.

And to act dangerously.

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.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Loui Jover

This is not a new post, but it has become almost a Valentine’s Day tradition for me to repost it around this time of year, to remind readers to be bold and to have fun.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 12, 2018 in Still Life

 

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Next Best Thing

 

It was perpetual summer, richly fragrant with potent mary jane and pungent patchouli.

I was sixteen.

She was two years older – so far out of my league that she should never have even noticed me.  And yet somehow I was there, amazed at my good fortune, hopelessly in love with her, and in complete awe of her friends. They were ultra hip, achingly cool and comfortably rich.

Whereas I owned the Levi’s I stood up in, a couple of faded shirts, a borrowed guitar, and my notebook of spidery poems.

There was a gentle candle-lit dinner party in one of daddy’s spare houses.  The room was beamed and flagged and full of style and music. I was a pretty boy – an amusing novelty to wear like a trinket on her arm.  Although I never realised that at the time.

The conversation turned to views of what a perfect partner might be.  She waxed lyrical about what would excite her.  Intelligence, a sense of humour, a slim, slender physique, a writer, a revolutionary, a mass of golden curls, eyes that could both command and romance.  I swear she was looking at me. I thought she was talking about me.  I was young, proud and special.  I had smoked perhaps a little too much dope.

‘Thank you.’ I said, when she had finished.

There was moment of stunned silence before the table erupted with mocking laughter.  She reached across and patted my hand.

‘Oh, darling boy.  Did you think I meant you?’

I lowered my eyes, blushing fiercely, almost tearful at my own stupidity.

‘Don’t worry,’ she consoled me. ‘you are the next best thing.’  There was more laughter.

It was an instructive and humbling moment that I promised myself I would never forget.

It still lives on, all these years later, in my e-mail address:

nextthing@_________

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As I continue to go through pieces of my past, I found this. I first posted it in 2012 writing about a memory of my teens that never faded. I suspect we have all had moments like these in our formative years.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photograph by Matt Eaton

 
6 Comments

Posted by on February 5, 2018 in Lovers Past, Still Life

 

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